"You don't like his work?" he demanded.
"Why," she hesitated, caught, "I—you wouldn't put a city house here, would you?"
"I like the kind," he said. "Stone, you know; turrets, carvings, imps, and that sort of thing. All hand-work, but they get them out quickly. Kind of a tall house. Wouldn't that do here?"
"No, no, Mr. Ellis," she answered quickly, almost shuddering at his description. "Think how out of place—here. On a hill a low house, but a long one if you need it, is proper."
"Oh," he said slowly, thinking. "Seems reasonable. But tall is the kind Smithson always builds."
"I know," answered Judith. Smithson was responsible for a good deal, in the city.
Again Ellis searched her face. "You don't care for my city house?"
She had to tell the truth. "For my taste," she acknowledged, "it's a little—ornate."
"That's ornamental?" he asked. "But that's what I like about it. Don't the rest of my neighbours care for it any more than you do?"
"Some do not," she admitted.